October Challenge
by flaws-and-all
Summary: A collection of short stories. Rated M just to be safe. Rating may change once entries are complete. Many pairings included. Feel free to request pairings.
1. Day 1

Day 1; Selfie.

The boys had finished getting their gear on and almost all had left the locker room. Eric who had turned to leave, saw Kenny out of the corner of his eye with his piece of shit phone and without any gear on his torso. He was modeling.

"Keeny, the hell are you doing?"

Eric watched Kenny making faces into the locker room mirror, holding his phone up by his face.

"Taking pictures."

He watched Kenny smirk and cock an eyebrow and press a button on his flip phone.

"You look like a douchebag."

"No." He snapped another photo.

"Yeeh, you do. Only douchebags take mirror pictures, with their shirt off."

Kenny turned and sat to look over the photos. Eric subtly made his way over to look as well.

"Oh, that one actually looks pretty nice."

"You fuckin' know it."

"Well, hurry your poor ass up. Coach is waiting."

"Kay."

Kenny was left to fight with his phone on the matter of actually getting these photos to send to a certain boy, the only other blonde haired, blue eyed boy in South Park. Of course the colors were more pure on this boy than on him.

He managed to get one through with a note attached; _Game day. Wish me luck_. He got his gear on while waiting for a response. After a short moment that felt long, his phone made a high pitch noise, signaling he had received a message back.

He opened it to see a photo of Butters with his eyes closed, his lips pursed, and his hand up against his cheek giving the universal sign for peace. Under the photo read _Good luck! _with a heart.

"Fuck. Too cute."

He quickly sent a text message in return and waited for a reply.

His phone chimed after a matter of seconds.

_Gosh, how embarrassing! Go play, I'll see you later. Love you too._

He set his phone in his locker and began to close it when his phone chimed again. He grabbed it and flipped it open to find a photo of Butters with in a short skirt and t-shirt, pouting with his fists on his hips. His caption; _Cheering from here__._

"Jesus God. Perfect."

"Kenny! Hurry the frick up!"

He quickly replied with a heart and dropped his phone in the locker, shutting it and making his way out of the locker room.

"I'm so fucking lucky."


	2. Day 2

Day 2; Handwriting.

"Fuck...Mlnn..Fuck!"

He sat at his computer desk with his tongue locked between his teeth, carefully moving his pen and grumbling and grunting to himself as he had been for at least ten minutes now. With many discarded pieces of paper already on the far side of his desk, he moved another to the pile.

"Stan, what are you possibly doing."

"Nothing. Practicing. For something."

Kyle sighed, continuing his drawing and doing his best to ignore his boyfriend's unpleasant whines from across the room. He fought looking up at every sound he heard, but couldn't help raising his head every time Stan obnoxiously raised his voice.

"What the fuck!?"

"Stan. I can't understand what you're struggling with. It seems like you're trying to draw something when I thought you told me you were writing."

"I am. I'm writing. I just, fuck. They said we would use cursive later in life but we didn't and now mine's all fucked up."

"Do you have to write in cursive?"

"No...but I wanted to."

"If you don't like how it's coming out, just write how you usually do."

He moved the paper littered with scribbling to the far side of his desk to join the others, let a deep breath out and let his shoulders slack, then adjusted himself to sit up straight. Then, he started writing. Kyle watched him for a bit, seeing he was much calmer this way, and went back to his art.

Minutes of silence went by.

Kyle opened his binder to slip his finished drawing into a pocket, then put the binder away. He lifted his head to see Stan placing a letter into an envelope. He watched him seal the envelope and write on the front, he watched him place a stamp in the corner and he watched him stand up to face him.

"Be right back." He left his room with a small smile. Kyle sat in confusion, waiting. After a few moments, Stan returned.

"Who's that for?"

"You."

Stan took his place next to Kyle on the bed. Kyle looked him over.

"It has to be mailed. It's special that way."

"..Okay."

Kyle continued looking at Stan, looking for something, but all that he was given was a simper and a question.

"Wanna play Mario Party now?"

"...Yeah. Okay."

"Can I be Luigi today?"

"No. Be Mario."

Stan laughed at his boyfriend, feeling self satisfaction in such a title. He felt complete knowing there would be many more days like this, as there already have been. His only concern in that moment was the chance that Kyle wouldn't be able to read his rushed handwriting.

* * *

Kyle,

Hey, dude. I know this is gay, but I wanted to write you a letter because I want to let you know how much you mean to me. Since you keep things that are important to you, you can keep this and know you mean the world to me. You're better with words than me, but I'm trying my best here. Okay.

You're beautiful. You are. I can't imagine how it is knowing how special you are compared to all the normal people in South Park. I don't know how you're not full of yourself. The fact that you're not makes you even more amazing. Sometimes I wonder if you ever count the freckles on your face, or admire your face in the mirror like I would if it was mine. I don't know if you remember what that one creepy ginger said a long time ago, that every freckle is like a kiss from an angel or something. I remember thinking it must be true and I mean it was pretty scary when he said it with the way he said it but when I thought about you, I figured that it's why you're so beautiful. I think I would probably try to count every freckle I could see if I were you. I'm guessing that'd be a lot though. I think I'd still try anyway.

You're smart. You're really fucking smart. You think so much, about everything, and even if you're not sure about something, you still talk like you're sure that you aren't sure. Everything is so matter-of fact. This is this, unless it's this. It makes me feel secure in the world, like whatever happens it's okay because Kyle said it could happen and now it happened and Kyle's gonna help me handle it because he said he would. Things can be stressful sometimes, and we can smile or we can cry but whatever we do, it's okay. It's the life we choose. Personally, I like it best when you smile. I've rarely seen you cry, but when it happens, I get this feeling of wanting to do whatever I can to get you to be happy, and I know there were times when you cried because of me and I'll forever hate past me for that, but future me promises it won't happen ever again. Promise.

You're sexy. Kyle, you don't know how sexy you are. It's dangerous. There has been so many times where I've wanted to just sex you up a wall. I fuck you in class all the time in my head. The things that you do that you don't even realize you're doing, and when I can tell you're thinking about me. You wonder why some days I can't get enough of you after school. You don't realize how bad you were teasing me all fucking day. Honestly you don't even have to try to be sexy, but if you ever were trying to turn me on I'm sure it'd take less than a few seconds. By the way, I wouldn't mind that. If you ever want to play a slut or a schoolgirl in the bedroom, I'm down with that. Only with me. You've got a lot of sex appeal. Don't play with fire Kyle. You'll get raped.

So, everything's out in the open now. Writing is so much easier than talking I swear. Even though I suck at telling you to your face how much I love you, you'll always mean more to me than you think. My future doesn't work without you.

Stan.


	3. Day 3

Day 3; Weather.

"It's cold."

"It's been cold."

"It's colder. Hold my hand."

We continued to Stark's pond in silence, except for a few intervals of speech. Stan held my hand, as I told him to. He's been pretty good at listening to me today, or better than usual. It's less than what I'm wanting, but it's a start. I guess.

He can't keep his eyes off of the sky. It's irritating. I want him to not be able to keep his eyes off of me. He been giving Mother Nature so much attention today. Where's my attention.

"Stan. You're staring."

"At the sky." he laughed. "Would you rather me stare at you?"

"Don't be stupid." Yes. I would much rather you stare at me than the stupid definite sky that's always there and is always going to be there. I'm not always going to be here, Stan. Not always.

His view changed from the sky to the ground. He was paying more attention to the gravel under his feet than to me. His expression was stained with content. What the hell is so good about the ground.

He pulled me to the bench that constantly watches the pond, and waited until I sat to wrap his arms around me.

"I love you, Kyle."

"Do you."

He looked down at me, and I avoided his eyes. I'm expecting too much. I shouldn't base something like this on past experiences, but he's always done something significant. Always. It's tradition at this point. So far, we're more than halfway through the day, and he hasn't done anything significant. Not yet. I'm still waiting.

"I do. Of course." He said staring at me. "Are you ready?"

"For what." I snapped. For some proper affection? Some acceptable acknowledgement? I've been ready. I've been ready all day.

"For your anniversary gift."

I looked up to his smile. He searched his pocket and pulled out a gift box. Inside was a ring carved with the date.

_Oct. 3 ∞ _

"It's not much, I know, but you can think of it as an engagement ring. If you want to. If you don't, that's fine too. I just want you forever, if that's okay."

I couldn't move my view from his face as he slipped the ring onto my index finger. I couldn't stop tears from trailing under my eyes. I couldn't do anything in that moment.

But I could yell. I can always yell.

"Stan, you're so stupid!"

"Try saying that five times fast."

I grabbed onto him and he held me.

"Especially while you're crying so hard."

Somehow I fought the tears and the constant lock in my voice to speak, and I hope he understood me.

"Don't ever do this to me again. It's too much emotions. I can't handle it all at once."

He held me and I held him tighter. I felt a circle of happiness flowing through me. When my crying wasn't so severe, he moved my face to his. We kissed, and I suddenly appreciated the sky and the ground and the pond, but mostly I appreciated Stan for knowing that I won't be the only significant thing in his life. There will be things that contribute to moments like this, and I'll always be grateful for them.

I sighed and leaned onto Stan. We stared out onto the pond.

"So... nice weather we're having, huh?"


	4. Day 4

Day 4; Jeans.

We slouched back against the end of my bed. Bebe slouched, I sat. We were listening to music and staring at nothing, as we usually do after school. I was staring at nothing. I caught Bebe looking at my legs again, the same look seen this morning as well as at lunch and in every period I share with Bebe.

"You're staring again."

She lifted her head to meet my eyes.

"At my legs. You're doing it again. You're doing it a lot today."

Her smile apologized for her and she moved closer next to me.

"You're wearing jeans, Wendy. Hollister jeans. Tight, ass-squeezing Hollister jeans. It's so fucking weird and goes against everything you normally preach. I love it so much."

I looked down at my skinny legs. These jeans only made me look more petite.

"Why?"

"I dunno. It's sexy."

No. This body can't possibly be sexy. There's no way. I'm slim. I'm slender. I'm shapeless. I'm not sexy. All these jeans are doing are emphasizing these legs without curves and an ass that's barely there. It's been starting to get colder outside, my leggings and thin colored pants haven't been keeping me warm. I found these things at the top of my closet, and honestly didn't know I had them, but I wanted to see if they'd make me just a little warmer on the way to school and back home.

"They're just jeans."

Bebe trailed a finger up and down my leg. The fabric reacted with my skin. I leaned to her and dropped my head against her arm.

"Denim jeans. Dark denim jeans. You're wearing sex pants. I just want to take them off, but then they'd wear off."

"Wear off?" I didn't bother opening my eyes to look at her. Her attention would obviously be on my legs still.

"The effects. You know. Sex pants aren't sex pants by themselves. It's your super sexy Asian legs that make them so attractive. The way they hug them so tightly."

I meant to laugh, but her finger trailed to my inner thigh and started in circles. My eyes opened just to close again.

"I want to be these jeans. I want in these jeans."

Ten hours spent in a pair of jeans is long enough. I moved to the button on the front of the pants and slipped it out of its hold, zipping the zipper down as well. I glanced up to Bebe who was eying me with curiosity.

"They're tight. I won't be able to take them off on my own."

Bebe quickly slid to the front of my legs and I lifted my lower body. She pulled the jeans harshly off of me and tossed them away. We stared at my bare legs together in silence as the song changed.

_There's nothing to do here, so just lie and complain. In bed at the hospital._

Bebe adjusted herself so that she was lying on my bedroom floor with her arms wrapped around my legs. She rubbed her head on my legs as a puppy would and sighed.

"Yeah. I like this."

With the tickle of her hair and the her blunt and unexpected comment, I couldn't control the laughter that exploded from my throat. In a rush to gain some air back, a snort escaped that caused Bebe to laugh hard against my legs.

"Jeans or no jeans, you're just great, Wen. I like you in jeans though, if that means anything."

I wiped at the corners of my eyes. Somehow I don't feel so ordinary when I'm with Bebe. I feel weird, in a good way. I like it.

"Sure. It means a lot."


	5. Day 5

Day 5; Sky.

Butters sat Indian-style in a chair at his window, looking down at the notebook in his lap, and occasionally at the Colorado sky above him. His cheeks were obviously irritated and eyes still trying to push tears forward. The tips of his lips turned up ever so slightly.

_The sky is still overcast. It was raining earlier today. I've been waiting for these days, when the sun is fighting to be seen through all of the clouds. It must seem out of place for me to love this. No one understands why. There's just something about the lit darkness of the sky and miraculous rain that comes with no proper entrance that calms me to serenity. Even with my parents yelling at me at a constant, even with Kenny being gone right now, even with the feeling that my life is falling apart again, and this time it won't get better, the sky tells me that it'll be okay and we all need these moments to reflect. Everything will be fine. The rain won't last forever._

He tried to continue his writing, seeing the whole page as blurry though in reality it was only fragments of a few select words. Realizing how pointless it would be to persist, he closed the notebook and moved his view to outside the window again, letting the tears fall freely as they'd been waiting to. He took deep breaths and wiped at his eyes. He waited for his chest to not feel so tight, his heart to stop crying, his impulse to be positive. He waited at the window, but felt no change.

Butters moved away from his perch and onto his bed. He tucked himself under the covers, hugged his extra pillow and cried. Small, fierce convulsions overtook his body. He wanted to deny all the beauty in the world and every miracle that's ever happened and that things seem to happen for a reason, he wanted to hate everyone and everything he could think of, especially what was upsetting him right now, but something wouldn't let him. In the pit of his chest next to the pain, a light was telling him to not be so dramatic and to get over himself. A light was telling him to go back to the window and stare at the fucking sky.

He insisted on being defiant, moving onto his back and letting the pillow lay on his extended arm. He stared dull-eyed at his ceiling. He wanted the unrelenting light to dim. He wanted a lot in his instant.

A knock echoed from his bedroom door.

Whoever it was, Butters was not in the mood to deal with them.

"Butters.. it's me."

He lunged up and watched his bedroom door.

"Uhm, hope I'm not bothering you or anything. I just wanted to-"

Butters fumbled out of bed and opened the door, meeting an equally wide blue pair of eyes as his own.

"Butters. Hi." The smile on his visitor's face made his stomach tighten. "Were you sleeping?"

"No.." He looked back at his bed, the blankets unmindfully thrown to one side and the pillow previously held so tightly tossed onto the floor. His grip on the door ceased and he returned to his place of comfort. "You can come in."

"Do I shut the door?"

"Go ahead."

Kenny came into the room, shutting the door behind him, and took a seat next to Butters.

"I just wanted to tell you I'm back... and I'm sorry and I missed you. Are you okay?"

He looked up at Kenny and felt himself breaking down. All he could see was yellow and orange. He felt his face twist and arms move around him and fought hiccups through his tears. He cried hard and loud like a child. His wails were muffled into Kenny's jacket. Kenny ran fingers through his hair and held him close. His crying calmed after what seemed to him to be forever. Kenny waited for the boy in his lap to settle, laughing inwardly at the genuine reaction.

"I'm sorry, Buttercup. I didn't mean for you to be so upset. I shouldn't have been on the roof, especially since it was raining. I'm used to doing stupid shit. I forget that someone cares about me now. I'm learning."

He waited for a response.

"Butters?"

Kenny moved the boy to see he had fallen asleep. He looked out the window to see that the rain had started up again. He picked up Butters and the discarded pillow on the floor, tossed it onto the bed and placed Butters on his side in the bed. He took the other side facing him and covered the both of them up and closed his eyes, listening to the sky cry.


End file.
